Justice is Blind |『 Female OC 』• Kimetsu no Yaiba

Act 33: Painting of Memories

The world was a blur of colours, shapes, and emotions. For as long as anyone could remember, they had all spoken about Enoki's paintings with the kind of awe one reserved for miracles.

Her brushstrokes seemed to breathe life into the canvas, capturing scenes so vivid that one could swear they saw the light shift and shadows dance as if the art itself were alive. Enoki's family, teachers, and even renowned painters would remark that it felt like she was drawing from another world.

Her family's modest home served as her studio, and the walls were adorned with her work, each piece a testament to her immense talent. Her parents, Kiyoshi and Hanae, proudly displayed her paintings in the front parlour for anyone who visited.

It wasn't unusual for guests to stand before a portrait for long minutes, convinced that if they watched long enough, the subject would blink or the breeze would rustle the leaves of the painted tree.

"You're a gift to this world, Enoki," her father said, his voice filled with pride. "Your art brings beauty to life. It's more real than reality itself," he added, kissing his daughter on the forehead.

"You see the world differently, my dear. It's like you can feel every moment and bring it into existence," Hanae murmured, gently touching Enoki's hair as she gazed at the latest finished piece. "Your art makes people happy. It shows them the beauty they sometimes miss," she said.

Praise flowed from all directions, from her peers who struggled to achieve the same level of detail to the older artists who marvelled at how someone so young could possess such an intrinsic understanding of light, shadow, and emotion. It was as though her brush was guided by something beyond skill.

It felt like it was an obsession with capturing the world as she saw it. And with each new painting, Enoki sought to push herself further, to capture the tiniest detail, the smallest fragment of reality, until the canvas was not just a representation but a portal into another world.

But as time went on, the line between her art and reality began to blur in a different way. When Enoki painted, she didn't just capture life; she began to seek something deeper, something more than just beauty.

Perfection, she called it. But in her quest for perfection, something changed inside her. She no longer took joy in the quiet moments with her family or in the laughter shared with friends. Her world shrank to the size of a canvas, and every hour was spent trying to refine her art further.

She stopped attending social gatherings and skipped meals, spending her nights locked in her studio with only the flicker of candlelight and the steady rhythm of her brush against the canvas to keep her company.

Enoki's parents grew concerned. "You should take a break, dear," her mother urged one evening. "Your hands are trembling. You've barely slept in days," she said, her voice laced with worry, but Enoki shook her head.

"I'm close, mother. I'm so close," Enoki replied, her eyes fixed on the canvas before her. There was a haunted look in them now, a sharpness that hadn't been there before. "I can almost touch it...I just need to reach a little further," she said.